Drabbles
by kirstyvega
Summary: A series of  roughly  500 word drabbles written based on external prompts.  Not linked.  Various genres.  Think of it like a variety show where all the acts contain Jake in some entertaining form or other!
1. Cygnus atratus

The sign outside the enclosure read 'The Black Swan, _Cygnus atratus_, is native to southeastern and southwestern Australia but is a popular ornamental bird throughout Europe and North America.'

Further details included how the Royal Swans, a mix of black and mute swans, came to City of Ottawa as a gift from Queen Elizabeth II in 1967 to celebrate Canada's centenary.

Every spring since then, city council employee Billy let said swans out of their winter quarters onto the Ottawa River. This year, the aging Billy was teaching his enthusiastic apprentice Seth all he'd ever need to know about swan care.

Billy went through the swan's feed, routine, basic veterinary information and then added, "See that little black one there, Seth? She's a weirdo. Never mated like the rest. Swans are monogamous breeders you know, mate for life. But that one just avoids all the others, I named her Bella the Bizarre cuz she's so damned strange,"

"Can't we find her a friend?" Seth hated the thought of anyone being lonely, even a swan.

"You can," Billy said. "I'm a crabby old man who has gout and plenty of city park lawns to mow so I'm gonna take my time with that. Swans are your job now, follow what I said and do as you want with Bella but no mad science experiments."

That night Seth jumped headlong into swan research on his laptop. He read that various swan species sometimes hybridized when desperate for a mate.

Over the next few weeks Seth noticed there was a lone male mute swan. It was a pathetic outcast: slinking around like a ghost watching all the other birds, particularly when they slept. Seth wasn't even sure it ate. He'd never seen it around when he fed the flock and it seemed paler, whiter than the other mute swans. Seth nicknamed it Deadward because if ever there was a living dead swan, this was it.

Bella ignored Deadward as much as she ignored the rest of the swans.

But for some reason Seth thought Deadward deserved more of a chance. So one lunchhour while sitting outside in the spring sun he confronted his superior with a plan. "Hey Billy, can I pen up the two loner freak swans together and see if they'll form a pair bond? I know one's black and one's white but it's not mad science."

"Please yourself kid." Billy answered mildly and went back to chucking his crusts at a large, hungry Canada goose nearby.

Alas, Seth's swan matchmaker plan failed. Miserably. Bella ignored Deadward. Deadward moped even more. As there was no point keeping them together, Seth let the two swans back out with the rest of the flock. Weeks passed. Bella the Bizarre swan continued her reclusive ways. Deadward Swan continued his morose non-existence.

Seth was at his wits' end to cheer Bella up. During their breaks, he complained about his failure to Billy who laughed and fed the ever-present goose some chocolate.

At home Seth trawled the internet and discovered that very occasionally black swans will hybridize with geese. Seth hatched a new plan.

"Billy, that huge goose you're always sharing lunch with, can I borrow him for Bella?"

"You mean my buddy Jake? He's been hanging around here for years, dunno why he never migrates with the rest of the geese but yeah, I guess if you can catch him, you can see if he'll be Bella's pal too."

Seth lured Jake the goose around the sheds and into Bella's pen with a muffin. And then promptly got the heck out of the way as the swan and the goose began a passionate mating dance.

* * *

><p><em>AN - I wrote this for the June 2011 drabble challenge (Animal!Twilight: the idea was to turn the Twilight characters into animals) over at TATS and wanted to post the slightly longer version here (610 instead of 500 words). It's pure, unadulterated self-indulgence: references to both of my homelands; a bunch of biology; my dopey sense of humour AND a cheesy pun! Oh yeah, this is the kind of classy literature I live for hehe ;) _


	2. Ashes to Ashes

Eulogies were brought to us by white men. For once it wasn't a bad gift – certainly better than disease, missionaries and residences anyway.

I tried to tell myself a eulogy celebrates the life gone from this world and maybe also reminds those left to achieve their best because our time here is short. Still, that seemed like a lot of empty words.

I thought of what my father had always said, how he always introduced that first story of the spirit warriors: "The Quileutes have been a small people from the beginning. And we are a small people still but we have never disappeared."

I thought about what this meant personally, for my family, and now in terms of my father's death. Trying to write something that summarised everything he'd been to our tribe, generation and family felt nearly impossible. All I could scratch out was:

_Billy Black was a large man among a small people. He guided and served his friends, family and tribe with wisdom, kindness, authority and justice. I feel blessed not just for the pleasure of having known him but also for the honour of being his son. I would like to think that all of us here today feel the same, for we are all sons and daughters of the long line of tradition that Billy believed so strongly in. We are all a small part of the mighty Great Spirit. _

_Now that Billy is not with us anymore, with our small people, we must not think he has disappeared, just as we will never disappear. We must remember Billy lives on through his blood in his grandchildren, his memories in our minds, and his love and belief in who and what we are: the Quileute people._

And so that's what I said on the chilly October evening when we scattered his ashes out to sea. There might have been more words, better words, I could have used to explain things but I couldn't find them. In the end, I don't think it mattered.

What mattered was that we stood in this circle on the beach silently thinking about the never ending cycle of life and death. The elders, like Sue, held hands with teenagers, like Sam and Emily's children, who held hands with protectors, like Embry and Colin, who grasped the toddlers' tiny fists.

In this moment we were indeed a small people but the strength we found in the purpose and peace of the ceremony was immeasurable and eternal.

The silence and magic of the moment broke as a loud wail came from my wife's direction. Bella blushed and whispered "I think Will's hungry," indicating to our youngest child who she carried in a sling across her chest. The bonfire in our midst suddenly flared and crackled loudly, driftwood blazing.

"With a sense of timing and an appetite like Will's, Billy is most definitely still with us," Sue commented as the whole tribe burst out laughing at its newest member.

* * *

><p><em>AN - This was written as a result of the July 2011 drabble prompt over at TATS._

_Because I Could Not Stop for Death - Emily Dickinson_

_Because I could not stop for Death,_  
><em>He kindly stopped for me;<em>  
><em>The carriage held but just ourselves<em>  
><em>And Immortality.<em>

_We slowly drove, he knew no haste, _  
><em>And I had put away<em>  
><em>My labor, and my leisure too,<em>  
><em>For his civility.<em>

_We passed the school, where children strove_  
><em>At recess, in the ring;<em>  
><em>We passed the fields of gazing grain,<em>  
><em>We passed the setting sun.<em>

_Or rather, he passed us;_  
><em>The dews grew quivering and chill,<em>  
><em>For only gossamer my gown,<em>  
><em>My tippet only tulle.<em>

_We paused before a house that seemed_  
><em>A swelling of the ground;<em>  
><em>The roof was scarcely visible,<em>  
><em>The cornice but a mound.<em>

_Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each_  
><em>Feels shorter than the day<em>  
><em>I first surmised the horses' heads<em>  
><em>Were toward eternity.<em>


	3. October

It was October.

I loved Octobers. I loved the cold snap in the air, the sharp crunch to the leaves. I loved not feeling hot and sweating. Most of all, I loved that cooler temperatures meant my wife snuggled with me a lot more at night.

Normally on a Sunday afternoon we'd be outside doing something simple, enjoying a little time together. Today though, Bella'd been forced by the women of La Push to attend her own baby shower so it was just me.

Walking along First Beach I watched a group of waterbirds take flight. Startled by my presence, they lifted dark, sleek bodies from the grey surface of the ocean and circled the bay, turning as one in the air.

This was another thing I loved about October: the annual return of migrating flocks. Years ago, Bella had told me we were on the Pacific flyway, one of the principal migration routes for birds heading south after a summer in the arctic. She said they crossed the Gulf of Alaska and headed straight down the coast to California or Mexico to shelter for the winter.

One of the joys of having a biology teacher for a wife was that I learned the reasons behind everything I'd been watching my whole life. Of course Bella couldn't tell me why or how the birds knew where to go. No one really understood that. Bella said it was just something they did, something they instinctively knew how to do.

I had told her it seemed a like crazy way to live life – travelling to a new place every six months with all your friends and relations. No roots, no real sense of home. She'd just laughed at me and said the birds were lucky: they had two homes.

The waterfowl disappeared out to sea and after the flurry of their activity, the beach seemed overly calm in contrast to my restlessness. I paced, remembering what Bella'd said about two homes. I'd always wondered that if not for me, would she have found another home elsewhere? I still worried that settling here after our marriage wasn't the best thing for her. I disliked the thought that I might be the only thing tying her to this nowhere of a place. It was my home but it didn't _have_ to be hers. I wanted her to live where she desired, not where she felt obligated.

Over the last few months though, watching the slow but steady growth of her belly, I'd becoming surer that Bella wanted to be here, and not only because of me. She kept telling me that she wanted roots and a family together in La Push. I was starting to believe her.

Today I felt like the migrating birds: loving Bella was something I did, something I instinctively knew how to do. I realised if that was enough for the survival of dozens of avian species, it'd be enough for us.

The epiphany made me love October even more.

* * *

><p><em>AN - Written for the August 2011 drabble challenge at Live Journal's TATS community. The challenge was word association - read over: _"birds, flight, return, cold, new, shelter, together, roots, growth" _and write about what comes to mind. The drabble didn't have to contain all or any of the words listed - just whatever was inspired after reading them._


End file.
